


Crowned With Silver

by werewolfsaz



Series: Bath Time Tales [3]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfsaz/pseuds/werewolfsaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin's wounds needed tending but he was so stubborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowned With Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry its taken so long to update this but my brain melted. Luckily, its reformed and we're off again :)  
> Comments are like candy so please feed my sugar habit  
> Enjoy

After everything that had happened in the mountains, and after, Bilbo was hugely relieved to be inside Beorn's huge house. The food, delivered to them on the backs of Beorn's amazing animals, had been simple but wonderful and when he offered them the chance to bathe...Bilbo jumped at the opportunity.

But before he could even think of getting clean, washing away the grime from the caves and the ash from the burning trees, he needed to do something about Thorin. The leader of their company had born his wounds with no complaints but Bilbo knew that they needed tending. He also knew Thorin was incredibly stubborn and would never allow any sign of weakness in front of the other dwarves.

"Thorin, would you help me a moment please?" Bilbo asked a short time later. The dwarf Prince frowned but agreed readily enough, raising to follow the hobbit. Bilbo saw Gandalf smile even as he turned to the others, keeping them distracted as he lead Thorin towards the back of the great hall.

Beorn's wonderful animals had set up a shallow wooden tub behind a series of beautifully carved screens and filled it with warm water. To a man of Beorn's considerable size, it would have been no more than a foot bath. Yet to the hobbit and dwarves, it was big enough to bathe in comfortably.

Feeling Thorin's eyes on him, Bilbo steeled himself and eyed the dwarf back.  
"Armour off," he ordered in a quiet but no nonsense voice. "You took a beating off that Warg and I know the wounds need looking at. The others can't see so don't even think about arguing."  
"And what makes you think I'll strip off just because you said so?" Thorin demanded angrily. Bilbo put his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the Prince.  
"Either you let me help you, quietly and with no fuss, or I march out there and tell the whole company how badly injured you are and they come rushing here to help you. Your choice."

Thorin was silent for a long time so Bilbo moved towards the main hall again, opening his mouth to call for the others. One big, work calloused hand grabbed his arm, halting him. Thorin glared at him and shook his head.  
"Alright," he almost growled. "You can help me."  
Bilbo smiled at him, patting the hand on his arm.  
"Wise decision. Do you need any help with your armour or can you manage?"

Thorin began tugging at concealed buckles and ties, pieces of finely crafted metal sliding off of him slowly.  
"The Warg put some dents in it, I can't get to some of..."  
Batting the dwarf's hands away, Bilbo slipped his smaller, slimmer fingers in the gaps, deftly unbuckling the more stubborn straps. Placing the armour to one side for cleaning later, he turned back to Thorin with a raised eyebrow.  
"No need to be shy on my account," he stated, gesturing to the Prince's clothes.

Thorin glanced down at his undergarments, rolled his eyes and began removing them too. Once he was down to his bare skin, he looked back at the hobbit, wincing when he saw the look on Bilbo's face. The Warg's teeth had left nasty gashes and where it wasn't cut and bleeding, bruises blossomed like dark, ugly flowers.  
"They really aren't that bad," he protested weakly.  
"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves," Bilbo sighed, unconsciously repeating Gandalf's words from what seemed like so long ago. "Stand still while I clean those."

Keeping his eyes firmly on the task, fighting the blush that was trying to crawl up his cheeks, Bilbo motioned for Thorin to get in the tub, grabbing a wash cloth as he did. He couldn't help but admire the dwarf Prince's form. He was heavily muscled but not cumbersome, his skin was golden and covered in many scars from long ago battles. His long hair hung over his shoulders and down his back like a dark cloak. His stomach was flat, waist lean, and his privates were... Bilbo jerked his eyes away, blushing hotly. When Thorin turned his head to look at Bilbo, the moonlight streaming through the hole in the roof caught the silver streaks in his hair, turning them into a crown of silver. The hobbit couldn't look away for a long time, dazzled by the pure majesty of the dwarf before him.

Cleaning the wounds took longer than Bilbo had been expecting. Mainly because he had come to a few startling realizations as he washed the dried blood from Thorin's body. Firstly, he very much liked touching the dwarf's bare skin, feeling the heat and the solidness of it. Secondly, he wanted more of Thorin, bare and approachable and so very, very tempting. And, lastly, that he, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, a gentle-hobbit and supposed burglar, was in very great danger of falling in love with this proud, stubborn, wonderful, loyal dwarf.

"What is that?" Thorin asked some time later, voice low and heavy with some emotion Bilbo didn't recognize. The Prince was pointing to a small jar on the table by the tub. Picking it up, Bilbo peeled off the wax paper cover, the smell of herbs raising gently from within.  
"Gandalf made it at some point. He says it has healing properties. I'm going to put this on your wounds once you're dry. By which time...Ah, here they are now."  
As he spoke, several of Beorn's dogs arrived, carrying Thorin's now clean clothes. Beaming at the dwarf, the hobbit took them, thanking the animals before turning to Thorin with a towel.

Stepping out of the tub, Thorin dried himself off slowly, wrapping the towel around his waist when he was done.  
"Your hair is a disaster," Bilbo tutted. "Sit down and I'll sort it."  
Running his nimble fingers through the dark tresses, gently untangling knots, picking out twigs and leaves, Bilbo marveled at how soft Thorin's hair was. He fiddled with the silver beads, finding the tiny, intricate catches and undoing them. Quickly and carefully, he re-did Thorin's hair, re-attaching the beads in the precise order they had been before. Retrieving the jar of healing ointment from the table again, Bilbo knelt in front of the seated dwarf.

When his fingers brushed over the first wound (high on Thorin's impressive chest, a deep, savage tear) the Prince drew a sharp breath. Bilbo froze, eyes flickering up to piercing blue ones.  
"Did I hurt you?"  
"Did you know, among my people, the things you have just done have a very specific meaning?" Thorin asked in his deep, velvety voice. Bilbo blinked, shaking his head.  
"What meaning?" he asked softly.  
"They are the acts of a lover. If the others saw this... They would jump to the wrong conclusions."

Staring up into Thorin's sapphire eyes, Bilbo swallowed hard.  
"They don't have to be the wrong conclusions," he whispered. "I would like them to be the right conclusions."  
His hands continued to smooth on the ointment as he waited, nervously, for Thorin's reply. Time stretched out, every second as long as a year it seemed, until a rough hand tipped his chin up, their eyes locking.  
"So would I."  
When their lips touched, softly, a barely there brush, Bilbo's heart lit up and the toils of the journey so far fell away. The worst was behind them.


End file.
